


A Conversation Worth Having

by teaandcharcoal



Series: Davekat Week 2017 [4]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 00:52:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11909811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaandcharcoal/pseuds/teaandcharcoal
Summary: As it turns out, you can't really ironically be romantic. You have to really be romantic. Thankfully, when Karkat passes out for a week to molt you get time to practice trying to his face.Written (late) for Davekat week 2017. Day 6 (August 11) - fluff day





	A Conversation Worth Having

**Author's Note:**

> One more for today!
> 
> If this premise seems a little familiar to you, there's a good reason for that. This is actually an expansion on a scrapped part of Kiss Me Complete (another fic I wrote that's much more adult oriented), but I changed some stuff so it's not canon to that verse. Hope you like it!
> 
> And, also, I will have one more fic up tomorrow. And it's long. (2110 words and counting).

You never really decided whether it was a blessing or a curse that your relationship with Karkat was founded on your mutual love for shitty movies. On the plus side, there was never a question of what to do on date night. You’d just pull up your respective harddrives containing terrible movies from your home planet, cuddle up with some popcorn, and watch people richer and more popular than you'd ever be make complete idiots of themselves for about 90 minutes. Between your snide commentary and Karkat's complaining about realism or a character's stupidity, it was always a fucking great time. Even if no one else would ever watch a movie with you two. Whatever, their loss.

But on the other hand, sometimes it made it tough. Because your favorite genre to mock was always bad romantic movies. And sometimes you felt a little bad because Karkat liked them unironically, but he was usually right there with you making fun of them. Still, during the cute snuggly scenes he would always fawn all over you. At first you just thought it was him being into you. Either a "that's totally us" or "That could be us in a few minutes, wink-wink, nudge-nudge. But then you started to notice it wasn't that simple. Like the longing was definitely there, but you eventually realized that it wasn't just a lusty kind of "I almost wish there wasn't half an hour left of this so I could jump your bones."

One day you realized he really wanted that kind of thing. He wanted poetry by moonlight and declarations of love in front of the whole world and you… you just couldn’t deal with it.

It went on like that for years. Him pining, you being too much of a little shitstain to actually give your boyfriend what he wanted. Not for lack of trying. You played the scenario over and over in your head, but when it came to putting those thoughts into words it all crumbled into pieces and you made a huge fucking ass of yourself.

Then he hit his adult molt. Apparently that involved passing out for a solid week. And now here he is, curled up on your bed. He doesn’t snore, he barely breathes, but he’s there. Every now and then you have to check to make sure that he’s still alive.

Once the anxiety passes and you get used to seeing him lying there limply you realize that maybe, just maybe this is your chance to practice. You can work on seducing him to his face while he's sleeping beauty-ing it up.

"Hey Baby," you start, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. Then you wince. "No, that was more douche. Hello, darling? No, I can't not stay that in a stupid pompous accent. Dearest? My-" The words feel stuck to your tongue like a glue trap. Fuckin paydirt. "My love," you finally get out. And it sounds _good._

"Okay, that's a start," you say to yourself. "Now, what do I do, babe? Channel my inner Mr. Darcy? Or something? I donno I've never read that book. You'd probably like it, though, since people talk about it like the quintessential romance. At least people who aren't stuck on Romeo and Juliet, but we kinda missed our window for teen angst suicide, huh?"

Karkat doesn't answer you. Which was, of course, the point with practicing like this.

Dammit, Dave, Focus!

"It's good to have you back, my- my love." Okay, a stutter, but you think you're doing okay. "I missed you terribly while you were gone. 'Twas quiet whilst- No, dammit, back in pompousville. How does Ryan Gosling fuckin do this?" You sit on the edge of the bed. "I mean, I do already kind of miss you, and I know it'll be way too quiet the next couple days. We haven't spent a whole day apart since we were – what – fourteen? Fifteen? Maybe even thirteen… And I don't regret it, but I want to give you something good to walk up to, you know? Striders aren't great with sincerity, but for you I kind of want to try. Or at least try to fake it for a while."

You pause for a moment. "You know, this ain't actually half bad. Maybe I can just like… word vomit in the right direction? Cut down on obtuse metaphors and shit? Oh, probably swearing too. That might be harder. But how's that sound to you? Just come here and try to, like, train-of-thought without deflecting the emotional stuff? Well, it's worth thinking about at least."

You stand back up and pet his hair one more time. "Okay, Karkat. I'm gonna go do that thinking about it thing and let you sleep. God, I hope you can't actually hear me. But I guess if you do, try to have some good dreams, okay? I- I care about you." Care about? That's such a copout! But it's okay, you tell yourself. You've got four days left. You can take some baby steps.

And you do get better.

“Morning, baby,” you say to him one night. “I missed you, you know? House was quiet without you. Anyway, you sleep good? I mean, you look like you did.” You lift one of his wrists. When you let it go it flops limply onto the mattress. “I could make you breakfast or something. Could even bring it to you in bed if you wanted.”

You pause and close your eyes. This was the hard part; the part there was no way you could play off, no way you could ignore. And you still couldn’t quite say it to his face, but maybe if you were lucky you’d be able to find a way to break eye contact when the time came. “You know, I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a long time. Way too long, if we’re being honest, and for once I’m trying to be. I love you, Karkat. More than anything.”

Then you hear a little gasp. You open your eyes and shit, fuck, of _course_ he woke up right then. You just gape, babble a little, trying to get filler words and failing. He just pushes himself up into a sitting position and looks back at you. You knew he was growing like a lot, but you didn’t realize how much bigger than you he’d gotten until he was awake and moving. Fuck, his eyes are as red as yours now, even starker against the new darkness of his skin.

“You, uh,” his voice was lower now too, low and rough with sleep. “You didn’t have to stop.”

“I uh… uh… You’re…”

He nibbles on his lower lip. “I’m what?”

There are definitely words for that kind of beauty. Maybe if you’d had more practice you’d be able to talk about how you want to kiss every inch of his new, broad shoulders. You’d be able to purr in his ears about how you want to run your hands over his chest and play with the grubscars and maybe even the boobs that probably ought to look a little out of place on such an otherwise masculine form but don’t. You would tell him how you looked him over every damn day, loving the changes that were happening to him, but not able to appreciate them fully until he was there and present in this new, wonderful body.

Sadly, you did not get that kind of practice. So you just give him a thumbs up.

But something about your dumbstruck expression must strike a chord. He laughs, low and rumbling like distant thunder. “Well, guess we’ll have to go find a mirror then, huh?”

“Sounds good.” You step back, giving him room to get to his feet.

“Oh, and Dave?” He puts his arms around your waist. “I love you too.”

He leans down to kiss you. Someday you’ll have that conversation. You promise yourself. In the meantime, you kiss him with all the love your little irony-overdosed brain has to give. As he purrs, you know that deep down he understands.


End file.
